We’re in New England for the next week, seeking to avenge the death of Robert Frost, and landing at Boston Logan last night, I had a thought:
We’re all basically on the same time zone.
This, of course, is wrong, and is a reason you shouldn’t think about time too much if you’re at an airport after midnight (spoiler alert, but this is what went wrong for the guy in Fight Club).
Anyway, time zones. Let’s dig in. Have we covered them before? I’m really pretty convinced we have. I mean, even beyond when we proposed that all Texans refer to the local hour as “Texas Time” even though there are two time zones in Texas (until El Paso leaves, that is).
The thing about time zones is that they do exist but they also don’t. You don’t have to obey them, for instance, and other countries do all sorts of weird shit with ‘em. India? They use fractions. China? They’ve only got one. Antarctica? Time doesn’t exist at all (penguins still won’t make that concession to God). At the same time, though, there’s gotta be a time. Otherwise, how will we know when the baseball games start?
And this brings me back to the initial thought I think I was thinking when I thought we were all basically on the same time zone: I bet people stay up later on the East Coast. To watch the baseball games.
